Codependent
by BunBunBun
Summary: In growing closer, the brothers also become more vulnerable – and Dean doesn't quite manage coping when he finds Sam soulless, hallucinating or dying. Three-shot, established Wincest.
1. Close enough

**Notes: **Hello everyone, and welcome to my latest piece of fan fiction! As opposed to what I've done before, this one deals with the more tragic aspects of Wincest - namely the fact that their actual love to each other makes them even more prone to all the dramatic plot twists that regularly get flung their way.

The fic consists of three loosely connected one shots dealing with that topic, more accurately:

**Setting/context:  
**Part 1** - **After Season 5 (Dean meeting soulless Sam)  
Part 2 - End of Season 6 (Sam regaining his memories from the cage)  
Part 3 - Mid to End of Season 8 (Mainly after the first Trial)

**Pairing: **EstablishedWincest - if you feel like you need a halfway reasonable explanation for them ending up romantically involved, chapters 1-3 of my other fanfic "A Supernatural Infatuation" work well enough :o)

**Warnings: **Heartache and Dramu. Also, slightly AU - the general plotline stays the same, but for more or less obvious reasons, the brothers' mutual attraction changes some things.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural, I'm merely borrowing from it.

So now: enjoy!

* * *

**Codependent**

**Part 1: Close enough**

Setting: After Season 5

Glancing out of the car, he put the pedal to the metal and left behind what might have become a home.

He had promised it, but...

He couldn't do it.

Ben and Lisa deserved someone who could be there for them. Someone who could build his own life around theirs.

But as he was staring grimly at the road ahead, Dean accepted he would never be that person. He couldn't.

He would never find a place to call home ever again.

Not with Lisa, not with anyone.

Because to him, being home meant having Sam around – nothing more and nothing less.

He had lost his brother too often already, yet this time...it would be final.

Sam was gone.

And so was Dean's home.

So was his hope.

* * *

He had spent hours driving when he had still be intending to keep his promise – to settle down to honour his brother's last wish.

He had spent hours driving after he had failed to accomplish even that.

At one point, he had wanted to settle down, to stop hunting, to just live a normal life.

With Sam.

Now, with the Apocalypse finally averted, he no longer had to worry about saving the world. But his plan of giving up the family business had evaporated, too.

It should have been him sacrificing himself to stop the Devil, not Sam.

At the very least, he should have jumped the pit along with him.

But he hadn't.

He had not been able to move a single muscle in that crucial moment.

And he had failed Sam yet again.

Of course, the stupid giant had insisted on it. But what was it worth? They might have saved every other human on Earth – but not each other.

Slamming the door of his motel room shut, Dean leant against the wall and stared numbly at the dark room ahead.

"Sammy," he whispered, "What am I supposed to do now?" He clenched his eyes shut, yet a single tear still managed running down his cheek. "Just what the hell were we thinking?"

Inhaling deeply, he shook his head and forced himself out of the upcoming nervous breakdown. That would not help him. He had to focus, to find a way back on the road.

He had to-

His eyes widened.

He had to stop hallucinating.

"I, for one, have been thinking about you all the time," a painfully familiar voice whispered as a man who looked like Sam but couldn't be him stepped out of the shadows and reached Dean within few long strides, "About getting back to you." Placing his hands on the wall next to either side of Dean's head, he leant forward to whisper in his brother's ear, "About finding you here, waiting for me." Entirely unbidden yet so very welcome, his left hand moved to hold Dean's head possessively just as the right one travelled down his back.

"Sammy?" Dean finally asked, his voice hoarse yet at least present again. He knew he should be on guard. He knew that, whatever thing was about to use his brother's appearance to take advantage of him, there was no chance this really was him. So how come he could not bring himself to push away? To do anything but to lean in to the heat that was being breathed down his neck – to be entranced by something that was so much like his brother he could, if only for a moment, believe it might be him?

"You're careless, Dean," Sam whispered into his ear, but did not bother moving much either. It was only his right hand that kept wandering downwards as he felt up his brother's muscles.

"I might not be if you were real," Dean countered weakly, daring himself to reach out.

To touch Sam that was not Sam but might be if he only believed in it.

He wasn't surprised when his brother felt as real to his touch as he looked. Hell, even the smell was _right_.

But...

But.

But!

But Sam heaved a sigh and shifted his right hand again, only slightly – to pull a flask of holy water out of his brother's back pocket.

Opening it behind Dean's back, he eventually poured it over them both.

"No demon," he stated as he leant back enough to meet Dean's desperate gaze with his own demanding one. Producing a silver knife from nowhere, he left a shallow cut on each of their cheeks. "No shapeshifter, either," he clarified and leant in to kiss his brother's wound better. Dropping knife and flask at the same time, he freed both hands to hold Dean again – to keep him pressed against the wall as he let his needy kisses wander downwards.

Once again, Dean could not keep himself from leaning in to the touch. To the need. To the thing he wanted to be his brother. And yet...

"You're not Sam, either," he whispered at last.

Inhaling sharply, the Sam that was not Sam stopped sucking on his skin. His head whipped up as he fixed his brother in a heated stare that was almost too intense. "The Sam you knew is gone," he stated bluntly and narrowed his eyes, "I'm the closest thing you will get, Dean."

Something broke within Dean at those words.

How dare he?

How dare that fraudster state a truth he himself refused to believe?

_That Sam was lost._

But...how could he be lost if there was a shadow of him standing right in front of Dean?

Reaching out to trace that familiar, beloved jawline, the older hunter momentarily forgot himself. He wanted to believe that, in some twisted way, this was his brother, yet in spite of the tentative smile he would have faced any other time, there was nothing but sheer demand in those eyes.

This was not his Sammy. As far as he could tell, he could be anything. But...he was something _close_.

Even something close was better than the emptiness Dean had been facing for days.

Regardless of whether he was facing an enemy or not... if he could not find happiness in this lifetime, if he could never find a home again...then altogether, he wouldn't mind dying at the hand of something that was _close enough_.

As if it could sense his inner turmoil, the thing that should have been Sam frowned in a mixture of dismay and exasperation before warping its painfully handsome features into just the expression Dean had been wanting to see.

Sammy, smiling gently up at him.

Sammy, holding him as if anything that mattered were the two of them.

Sammy, leaning close again as he stressed his words with all the love and affection he had been lacking earlier. "Dean, I'm back for you," he breathed shakily, "I'll always come back for you."

Dean's breath hitched at the sight - at the words - and as he resumed caressing the cheek of what he yearned to be his brother, he did not even mind his hand was trembling.

He did not even mind it was merely a mask the false Sam had slipped on. The act was good enough for Dean to believe it, if only for a moment.

But that was all right.

A moment was all he needed.

Pulling Sam close, he caught his lips in a fierce kiss.

It tasted right, it sounded right, it even felt right – but only for that one short moment.

Far too soon, Dean rediscovered the wrongness of the situation. Far too soon, the Sam that was not Sam took control, sucking all the air out of Dean's lungs while lifting him up against the wall - wanting, needing, _demanding_.

Panting heavily when his mouth was released at last, Dean felt a tear running down his face just as those familiar yet foreign lips were kissing their way down his neck.

His Sammy would have wanted him just as much, he would have needed him just as much, but as opposed to the creature claiming him, Sammy would have _cared_.

Whatever had come for him was not his Sam.

But...it might have been him at one point in time.

Daring himself to consider the possibility, Dean leant in to that familiar body and buried his face in those familiar strands of hair.

It was all right. It would be all right.

He could no longer get himself to resist anyway, so what harm could a bit more self-delusion do?

"You got me where you need me," Dean whispered throatily as kept trying to convince himself of the lie, "So tell me what you are. Tell me what you _want_." Placing a feeble kiss on his alleged brother's hair, he closed his eyes and made himself enjoy the touch, the smell, the closeness – to return fake Sam's need with a desperate passion he had not even known he still held.

"Isn't it obvious?" his false brother murmured against his neck, "I want you, Dean. I want to go on where we left off." He placed yet another kiss on his brother's skin, but Dean stiffened.

"You're not Sam," the older hunter repeated indignantly.

Sighing, fake Sam leant back just enough to look at Dean with his eyebrows furrowed. It was enough of an answer. At least though, as his eyes grew large and pleading, he knew how to play the part. Suddenly, he _looked_ as if he cared, and Dean found himself wanting to believe it all over again. "We can pretend, can't we?" Sam suggested softly, almost affectionately, "It's not as if we can go on without each other anyway."

Dean stayed still for a long time. He hated a cheap copy of his brother, but he hated this almost authentic, believable version even more.

Worst of all, though, he despised the fact false Sam was right.

"You're just as lost without me as I am without you," his brother's doppelganger added softly, and Dean could no longer argue with his reasoning. Finally he reached out for Sam's hair, stroking it feebly as he grew more and more enticed by the view of what could easily be mistaken with his brother.

Again, he managed believing the lie, if only for a moment. But maybe, just maybe, fake Sam could create more moments like that. Dean felt himself craving for that brief feeling of hope, and he finally understood staying with his brother's copy was an agreement he could live with.

For he could not live without it, either.

- Part 1: End -

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Notes: Poor Dean, stupid Sam :(

I'll upload the rest as soon as I've read over it again.


	2. Authentic enough

**Codependent**

**Part 2: Authentic enough**

Setting: Season 6 Finale, after Sam's wall breaking

Closing his eyes, Dean rested his elbows on his knees and lowered his head onto the motionless hand he was clinging to.

"Sammy, just...wake up, will you?"

Yet as he was lying on an old foldaway bed in Bobby's panic room, Sam stayed absolutely still.

Grimacing bitterly, Dean averted his eyes.

It had only been a couple of hours since Castiel, obsessed with his sudden need of sheer power, had ended up breaking the wall inside Sam's mind that Death himself had built to save him from the painful memories of the cage.

Tilting his head, Dean placed a soft kiss on the warm yet unmoving hand in his grasp.

It had been hard enough to regain Sam as it was. Dean had never quite managed coping with the soulless shadow that had left Lucifer's cage long before his soul had followed. Sacrificing a year's worth of memories for Sam's general well-being had been the right thing to do, even if it came with a risk attached.

But, of course, Dean had never expected one of their closest friends to betray them. It was not a secret the Winchesters' Achilles heel was their dependence on each other.

But Dean had lost Sam too often already.

Inhaling deeply, he squeezed his brother's hand.

They might have been torn apart far too often, yet he'd be damned if this would be the final time.

"Dean?"

His breath hitched as he raised his head to find Sam's eyes open and staring at him in confusion.

"Sammy," Dean croaked in sheer relief, "Are you okay?"

Regaining his composure surprisingly quickly, Sam chuckled softly and replied with a small smile, "You're here, aren't you? So how can I not be okay?" As he sat up to reach for his brother's cheek with his free hand, his longing gaze never left his eyes, "It's so good to see you, Dean."

Although still too dumbfounded to accept the possibility that, just like that, things might have gone better than expected for once, the older Winchester allowed himself to crack a grin at last. "You gave me quite a scare," he commented good-naturedly as he pulled his brother into a hug, "Welcome back, Sammy."

Returning the embrace, Sam rested his head against his brother's while holding him just a bit too tightly. "Where are we, Dean?" he asked at last, glancing around without recognizing a place he should remember well.

Dean's eyes widened in alarm. Sam was talking calmly enough... but his whole body began trembling. What the... "We're at Bobby's," Dean offered matter-of-factly, but made sure to stroke his brother's back in calming motions.

What was going on?

Sam, meanwhile, stiffened in his embrace. "That's new," he pointed out in a strangled voice and slumped his shoulders, ending their embrace to meet Dean's eyes with a frown. "And let me guess," he went on at a subdued voice, "we'll have to set out right away?"

Watching Sam's reaction carefully, Dean saw no other option but to state the truth for now. "We've got three hours before Cas opens the portal," he explained slowly, "Do you feel up to it?"

Sam's eyes widened when he finally remembered their current situation. Or was it...something different? "No," he demanded quickly, grabbing Dean's hands again to make sure he stayed right there, "This is a safe room, isn't it?" Gulping, he looked troubled, "We'll stay _right here_, Dean."

The older hunter, meanwhile, failed to follow his brother's argumentation. "Sam," he stated quietly but firmly, "If we don't prevent this, all hell's gonna break loose." He grimaced briefly and added, "Or, well, all purgatory."

"But you'll die," Sam countered flatly.

Dean blinked. Where did that come from? "Not if you're there to watch my back, right?" he offered in response and shrugged weakly, "I mean, unless you give me a good reason not to take you along, I'd really appreciate the help."

As Sam kept watching his brother with an expression torn between frustration and fear, a long silence settled. "I don't have much influence on this, Dean," he admitted at last and lowered his head to continue at a much quieter voice, "then again, that applies even if we stay here."

Again, Dean blinked. "We've pulled bigger stunts before, Sammy," he stated and forced a confident grin on his face as he got up from his chair, "Let's get this done, all right? No one's gonna die today."

Grimacing, Sam finally stood as well. But he never let go of his brother's hand. "All right, but before we go," he all but whispered as he stepped closer to Dean, "can I at least have a moment of your time?"

Dean glanced at his watch and back at his brother. "We can spare a couple of minutes," he stated slowly and met Sam's eyes, "if you're willing to actually tell me what's going on in that head of yours, that is."

Inhaling shakily, the younger brother opened his mouth. But it took a while for any words to come out. "I miss you, Dean," he whispered at last and laughed bitterly, "Just, look at you, you're _perfect_."

Dean blinked. "Same goes for you," he grinned and tilted his head in contemplation, "What do you say? Once all of this is over, we'll take a week off in Vegas. I wouldn't mind appreciating _you_ a bit more actively either." And it was true - if it wasn't for their former friend's world domination plans, it would have been Dean's top priority to make sure Sam got all the time he needed to cope with whatever the Cage had done to him.

For the moment, though, they were in a hurry.

For the moment, Sam seemed alright enough. Still watching Dean with that longing expression, he chuckled dryly, but he did not say anything. Instead, he finally closed the remaining distance between them to give in to an urge both of them had been suppressing due to the strained situation.

It was a desperate, longing kiss.

Even when both had run out of breath, Sam refused to release his brother from his embrace. "Thank you, Dean," he rasped shakily.

"For what?" his brother replied slowly, twice as alarmed yet still as clueless as before.

"For not jumping the cage along with me," Sam whispered and inhaled unsteadily as he closed his eyes, "I've died countless times, and I've watched you die even more often. But knowing it's never really you..." His breath hitched, but he still managed to go on, "that's worth more than anything else down here."

Dean's eyes widened as he finally understood – as he finally realized just why Sam was behaving too calmly and yet too fearfully at the same time.

He did not see the difference.

"Sam," he stated firmly as he grabbed his brother's shoulder and pushed him away just enough to force his meaningful stare onto him, "You're not in the Cage anymore. _You got out_." He gritted his teeth as he nodded around the room. "This is real." He kept his gaze locked with Sam's non-committal one. "This," he finished and motioned towards himself, "is the real me."

As he regarded his brother's words, Sam's eyes were glassy, yet his lips formed a fake yet gentle smile.

"Of course you are," he replied as he leant forward to place a kiss on his brother's forehead. "After all, you're authentic enough to willingly go out and get yourself killed by Lucifer, or Crowley, or Cas, or whatever it is this time..." He lowered his voice, "...rather than staying right here with me for once."

- Part 2: End -


	3. Alive enough

**Codependent**

**Part 3: Alive enough**

Setting: Season 8, after the first Trial

"You know what I like about the life?" Dean ranted as he crossed the bunker's common room in fast strides.

"I don't know," Sam replied tiredly, massaging his temples as he only just walked down the stairs, "The thrill?"

Tossing his jacket onto the table, Dean whirled around to fix his brother with a glare. "The apres-hunt fun," he corrected.

Sighing softly, Sam leant against a pillar. "I gathered that much," he replied dryly, "So let me guess, you're going to lecture me on how you're too angry right now because I stole your kill?" He rolled his eyes. "Firstly, you can't change what happened. The hellhound would have killed us all if I hadn't gotten to it first," he stated as he pushed himself away from the shelf and turned in the general direction of their respective rooms, "and secondly, I'm not in the mood, either."

Meeting his brother's eyes briefly, he strode off. But of course Dean grabbed his hand and held him back as he considered the conversation far from over. "We need to find another hellhound," he warned quietly, "I volunteered to do the trials – you didn't." His gaze darkened.

Sam met his stare evenly. "Well, maybe I changed my mind," he countered, "and you know what? Blame me all you will, I'm glad this happened." He inhaled deeply. "Because now you'll finally have to listen to me."

Dean furrowed his brows. "On what?" he snapped, "We agreed that we'd kick these bastards out once and for all – and that _I'd_ do the dirty work."

Sighing softly, Sam began massaging his temples again. "But I never agreed to losing you again," he countered flatly, "This was a close call, and I'm sure the upcoming Trials will get even worse."

Dean narrowed his eyes and growled, "That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"It's a risk that concerns both of us," Sam retorted quietly and fixed his brother in a rueful gaze, "When you ganked Dick Roman and just vanished off the face of Earth I –"

"Found a girl and settled down," Dean cut him off and huffed, "There I was thinking we were soul mates, inseparable, that we meant everything to each other." He was about to rant more, but he held his tongue and skipped to the end, "You know what? _Good for you._"

Naturally, Sam looked like a beaten puppy. "Dean, we've had this conversation," he stated and closed his eyes.

"Then don't bring it up," the older Winchester countered heatedly.

"I brought it up," Sam clarified and lowered his gaze, "because I need to wipe the slate clean."

Dean arched an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

Inhaling deeply, Sam took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Did you really think I didn't look for you?" he asked at last.

Dean blinked in surprise. "I trusted you to," he stated with a frown, still angry but growing increasingly confused.

"Well, I did," Sam replied with a forced shrug that was meant to look casual, "Of course I did."

Dean's frown deepened. "Then why did you tell me you didn't?" he asked slowly.

"Because I never wanted you to know the details," Sam explained quietly, "But considering you're furious already as it is..." He trailed off and his shoulders slumped. "Crowley found a spell to open a portal to Purgatory that only humans can pass. In exchange, he wanted nothing...but a couple of favours."

Dean's eyes widened.

"I kept my end of the bargain, and so did he," Sam went on, "I hate what he had me do, but I would make the same choice over and over again." He inhaled deeply and met Dean's eyes again at last. "Because you wouldn't be here if I hadn't."

Torn between fury, fear and confusion, Dean failed to phrase an answer for a long time. "Sam," he stated at last, "what the hell were you thinking?"

The younger man sighed softly. "I was thinking that you would do the same," he explained matter-of-factly, "and I know you would." He reached for Dean's hands, as if to stress his point. "Do you understand why I even bother telling you this now, after all this time?" he asked softly and pulled Dean closer. "I don't care what happens to the world if you are lost to me," he whispered with their eyes still locked, "That's a mutual feeling, isn't it?"

Inhaling deeply, Dean tried to make sense of the situation, but his brother's intent stare and their sudden proximity gave him a hard time with that. "Sam, that's not –" he began, but he was hushed by his brother claiming his lips in a hungry kiss.

His eyes widened.

He tasted nothing but blood.

"So here's my question," Sam spoke once they parted at last, "is closing the Gates to Hell worth it?"

"Sammy, you're not –," Dean croaked, but his voice refused phrasing it. There was no way Sam would be dying. _No way._

"We need to consider the possibility, Dean," Sam insisted as he pulled his brother close again. "Right now, I'm still... alive enough, but we've only got one Trial down. If anything, it's bound to get worse and worse." He heaved a sigh. "You see, just like you, I'm ready to die for the greater good." Forcing his eyes shut, he rested his forehead against his brother's. "But I'm not ready to leave you behind for any reason whatsoever."

Breathing shakily, Dean buried his fingers in Sam's hair to pull him even closer. "You're not dying, you hear?" he demanded through gritted teeth, "not on my watch."

"So where does that leave us?" Sam asked quietly, "It _this _stilla risk you – _we_ – are willing to take?"

As their eyes met, Dean finally understood what his brother was saying – and he did not have it in him not to agree.

He couldn't lose Sam, just as Sam couldn't lose him.

But...

Could they really pass up on a chance like that?

The Trials were designed as tests rather than a suicide mission, weren't they?

The two of them had beat the Devil, for crying out loud – neither of them would go down that easily, right?

"Dean?" Sam prompted, shaking his brother out of his reverie.

Inhaling deeply, Dean did not trust himself to make a decision. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

Sam held his gaze, but he did not object any further.

In retrospective, Dean wished he had.

Several months later, he found himself cowering by his brother's bedside once again, staring down at Sam's pale features as he refused to wake up for the fifth day in a row.

He should be more concerned about the Angels' descent to Earth, about the work that was still left to be done, but he did not have it in him to do anything but stay by Sam's side.

Holding on to his brother's hand like a life line, he could not keep himself from dwelling in the past – from remembering a warning he should have heeded.

"I guess I messed up, didn't I?" he chuckled humourlessly, squeezing Sam's hand in the feeble hope of receiving a reaction this time.

He had lost his brother too often already, yet...

He'd be damned if this would be the final time.

- Codependent - End -

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Notes: "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it" - I don't even know when exactly it appeared in the show, but that sentence deserves every bit of its rank in my top ten sentences of "Argh guys just talk it out aaargh."

Please let me know what you thought about this! It's been online for a week and I'm really grateful I got at least one review - but it kinda makes you wonder, so please tell me :o

In any case, thank you for reading!


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